I am Very Normal about Media, Guys

Powerful demon of the First House. When he was first created, Grimm focused his energy exclusively into whatever took his fancy-- which was usually some variation on parties, food and...other simple pleasures. The power and status afforded by his blood set him up for a somewhat cushy life of extravagance. When the Nightmare King was lost, however...Grimm stepped up to accept the mantle, becoming the new king and vessel. At first, he largely saw the power of the Heart as another source of entertainment. He appeared before humans in the Victorian era, and persuaded one or two to follow him home (Isaac Bennet, for example, who became Belphegor). He found their ideas of demons and devils endlessly amusing, and adopted the horned look as a jab at the whole silly idea. His trips to the human world did prove to be for the best, though. When seeing how their world worked- and where it failed -he gained a new compassion and a greater appreciation for the sheer power he had been entrusted with.

For those who somehow missed an originally Wii-U exclusive JRPG which didn’t include the Fire Emblem or Shin Megami Tensei tags in its title, Tokyo Mirage Sessions: FE is a collaboration between Atlas and Intelligent Systems to bring a little Fire Emblem flavour to the familiar Zio-spamming recipe of the Shin Megami Tensei and Persona series. The game follows Itsuki Aoi, a nineteen-year-old with dark blue hair who has therefore been recognised by the universe itself as the main character. He discovers his ability to summon a Performa— a Fire Emblem character turned to a Persona – and joins up with other Performa users to battle mirages (i.e Shadows), pursuing their dreams and growing stronger as they do. It’s a setup that requires no further introduction if you’ve ever picked up an Atlas game before. They have a rightful confidence in this formula that allows them to focus on refinement and improved storytelling, the benefits of which absolutely shine in Persona 5.

Tokyo Mirage Sessions predates its more successful cousin by two years, but I argue we see the same brilliant attention to detail, themes and realism across both, and nowhere is this more apparent than in how both games handle freedom and escapism. For those still working through these eighty-hour behemoths, not to worry! There are spoilers for the first few story dungeons and other aspects, but not the endings of the games.

The two player teams present an interesting dichotomy, partly because of how similar they seem on the surface. Take their publicity situation. Posters of the Phantom Thieves’ logo plaster every building in P5, and Shibuya 106 is always displaying posters of Kiria or Tsubasa’s newest production— a very nice touch for TMS’s story, considering how much focus is placed on the nitty-gritty, mechanical aspects of building a career in performing. But there is one key distinction. While neither group is recognised for their heroic work in the Metaverse or Idolasphere respectively, the names Kiria Kurono, Tsubasa Oribe and Mamori Minamoto have gathered everything from a cult following to a full-blown fan frenzy. This has fascinating ripples throughout the rest of the story that feel fully considered by the writers.

Within the P5 cast up to Okumura’s Palace, many members join the Phantom Thieves because they feel backed into a corner. In Joker’s case, the corner is very literal. For Ann and Makoto, they could, in a purely technical sense, do the bidding of the villain and escape physically unharmed, but nobody in their right mind would suggest submitting to Kamoshida or Kaneshiro is a good idea. Imagery of imprisonment is everywhere, through promotional art and cutscenes and every line of dialogue. But this imprisonment is rarely a physical thing. Even in the literal jail of the Velvet Room replaces one wall with a huge portal back to the real world, albeit obscured by the camera angle. Restrictions on the Phantom Thieves are often nebulous or even self-imposed, and I find it fascinating that their problems rarely evaporate after they awaken their Persona and gain a new outlook. While the pressures of society are given a face for each Thief, the writers never make the mistake of treating it as if these singular persons are the only issue— instead, they represent a wider imprisonment.

Conversely, the Mirage Masters don’t seem to face these same issues. Not to say they have no conflict, but there is a sense of freedom that permeates every aspect of the game. It’s an interesting approach; their lives aren’t ruined or ended by failure, but their dreams will crumble before them if they can’t push on in their professional journey, and the world will be worse off for the loss of talented creators to the mirages. The Idolasphere may not feel of much import. Obviously there are consequences to leaving it unchecked, otherwise there would be no driving plot force to have the characters enter at all. But the Idolasphere and its adventures seem to be an inconvenience to most of the TMS cast. They aren’t actively seeking out new Idolasphere locations, excitedly searching for new equipment and attempting to train their Performa in their off time, the way the Phantom Thieves do. These are driven young professionals, yes, perhaps with the exception of main character Itsuki Aoi. But not driven by anything the Idolasphere offers- they already have their career aspirations, and it isn’t to fight shadows mirages for the rest of their lives.

This is even reflected in gameplay. Where leaving the palace in Persona 5 ends your day and has you missing out on a limited timeslot, TMS allows the player to jump in and out of any Idolasphere location, at any time. You could say that this is because TMS lacks the limited time frame mechanic that appeared in all three modern Persona games, but I would say the lack of that day-by-day mechanic is, itself, another way to show the freedom the TMS cast enjoy.

For the Phantom Thieves, the metaverse is their escape. Even in official art, you can see the grins as they jump into action:

Regular life, for the Thieves, is a tedious Sisyphean battle, where they feel like they have little power and little control. The power of a Persona is one thing that elevates them, makes them special, in their minds, anyway. Right from the flash-forward at the start of the game, it’s clear that the world is hostile to them. While Joker bounces around with a grin on his face and heaps of style, crowds react to him with fear, scorn, and derision. This in spite of the fact he has seemingly done little more than nab a prize and disappear, in true phantom thief style. And when Joker is caught by the police, the prospect of the truth being discovered becomes more and more unsettling, the closer the Phantom Thieves grow to each other. Beside the criminal charges: Ryuji is separated from his single mother, Ann loses her career and support network, Morgana loses the only people who understand him, Makoto loses her best chance at individuality and self-expression. The world is out to get the Phantom Thieves, and if that happens, they lose everything. They won’t die, presumably, but their lives are likely to become hollow and empty. This again emphasises the idea of their imprisonment being a less tangible thing, hard to fight and much harder to escape from.